


Surrounded

by schwertlilie



Series: Between Lines [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Community: kink_bingo, Embarrassment, F/M, Sewing, Situational Humiliation, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwertlilie/pseuds/schwertlilie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she agreed to help Arthur with some last minute costumes for a play, Mathilda hadn't expected that she'd be wearing *pencil skirts* - nearly the worst things she could try and cover her hockey-playing legs with. But she'll keep her promise, even if she hates every moment...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrounded

Matt twitched as Arthur pulled the two skirt panels closer over her thighs, but she ignored Arthur's glance just like she'd been ignoring all his other glances today. She'd agreed to let him use her as a dressmakers dummy for some last-minute costume prep, since with her padding she was close to the lead's hip size, but she hadn't realised that he was assembling _pencil skirts_.

So she focused on the way the sunlight glinted off Arthur's hair and tried to ignore how tight the corduroy was over her thighs. 

It really didn't fit her, which made sense because it was made for a biogirl; she could see where it sagged and where it pulled, even from above, and- Wait, she was supposed to be ignoring it.

Arthur began pinning the skirt, and Matt concentrated very hard on the titles on his bookcase - Wallander, Ola Haver, Smilla. His hands were gentle against her legs, the pins sliding into and through the layers of brown cotton and corduroy to accent just how much her shape betrayed her. She would have been okay with just hockey or just a male-bodied skeleton, but she had both - bum pads couldn't compensate for all of it in skirts like these, and they couldn't do _anything_ for how thick her thighs were. (God, they looked like tree trunks.) She needed to get changed back into the tulip skirt she'd worn over, the one that puffed at her hips  & knees and concealed her thigh muscles.

Arthur patted down the seam, then glanced up at her. She ignored it, just like she had his other glances, until he poked her with a pin. 

She flinched.

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Just a pin."

He huffed and closed the safety pin, turned to his sewing box. "You've not said a word in ten minutes. You don't have to do this, you realise."

"I know." She forced a smile. "I want to help, though."

Arthur pretended to ignore it. "I realise that sewing isn't the most.. _interactive_ activity, but..." He hesitated, then put his pincushion in his travel kit. "Is it the French paper you have coming up?"

"No, I'm not worried about that one. Or the Spanish one."

"Then what?"

"It's nothing!"

" _Mathilda_."

She didn't answer; he sighed, and reached for the zipper on the skirt she was wearing. "I think- I'll see you for dinner next Tuesday?"

"Arthur, what's-"

He looked up at her, fingers resting on the zipper pull. "It's nothing."

"Arthur!"

He looked at her; she looked back, and after a long moment she sighed. "It's the skirts. I thought you were using a different pattern."

"And?" He dropped his hand. 

"And they make mythighslookhuge."

He blinked, mouth working to sound out the sentence, before he half-smiled. "You're worried about your thighs?"

"No, they just don't look good in.. pretty much anything. Not even all-girl hockey players look good that way."

"But they look good on-" He coughed. "So it's just been the skirts?"

"Yes."

He hesitated. "And if I brought them back after the performance-?"

She blinked at him, but he just flushed and muttered something about "discomfort" and "negotiation" and "never mind" - she couldn't really hear until he turned back around and kissed her hand. "Take off the skirt, love?"

"But you're not finished, and-"

"I have it pinned, and that's the most important part right now. Then we can go get supper?" 

She looked at him, really looked, and nodded. He faced the desk as she unzipped the skirt, and didn't comment on her sigh of relief as the corduroy fell from her legs.


End file.
